


Hide and Seek

by FrecklefaceB



Category: Jack Reacher (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Betrayal, Blood and Violence, Car Chases, F/M, Gun Violence, Lies, Organized Crime, Robbery, Slow Burn, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrecklefaceB/pseuds/FrecklefaceB
Summary: Mildred "Millie" Day lives an ordinary life in rural America. She spends her days longing for excitement and adventure, anything to break the comfortably routine life of mediocrity. One day Millie's dream comes true and ultimately turns her life upside down, finding herself involved in a chase through the countryside with Charlie, a henchman for the Russian mafia.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Charlie or anything related to the Jack Reacher franchise or books. 
> 
> Feel free to leave me comments here or you can find me on tumblr under the username of FrecklefaceB. I post updates and general Jai Courtney related randomness. I'd love to hear from you.

“Two dollars is your change. Have a nice day,” I call out with a tight smile, the customer turning to leave without acknowledgement and my face falls once they’re out the door. The sky is ominous as the dark clouds roll across the flat landscape of the fields across the street from the gas station, occasionally sending bright blasts of lightening and loud claps of thunder as it approaches. The scene outside resembling a painting, one half gloomy and foreboding while the other was sunny and cheerful. I always liked thunder storms, especially the ones like today that threaten to challenge the monotony of my routinely boring existence. I could watch the chaos and pretend I was getting swept away to another place, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Anywhere would be better than this small town, I think to myself. 

My head snaps to the keys scraping along the door as my mother locks the office while juggling her mug and purse. 

“Don’t forget to do the inventory,” she softly reminds me before moving in to peck my cheek. I flinch away but she doesn’t seem to notice, or she just doesn’t comment as I wipe my cheek in annoyance at the gesture. She stoops to the drop safe, punching in the code and collecting the bank bags. “I’ll drop the deposit off at the bank on my way to Robbie’s,” she says while closing the safe. I tap my foot, ready for her to leave for the weekend. She’s visiting my brother and his family that live several hours away. I’m sure I’ll regret the visit upon her return, when she’ll spend days talking about my new nephew. 

Mom’s eyes sweep the counter, undoubtedly trying to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything but appears satisfied as she rounds the counter and pauses in front, “Don’t let your dad clog his arteries this weekend.” Her look pointed as her fingers wave to me. 

“Leave already!” I beg, desperate for some space. 

“I’m serious, Millie! Love you!” she calls out as she passes through the door. I breathe a sigh of relief, watching her slip into the car and pull away. Tapping my fingers on the counter, I stare out the storefront, wondering if we’ll even see anyone tonight with the weather.

My phone vibrates and I smile, knowing it's a message from my friend Kali. She had managed to escape this small town and was off having fun at university; I was envious. Kali always knew her path in life, even when we were small children she wanted to be a teacher, while I floated by in school, my passion never realized. She's now wrapping up her third year and I'm still waiting for a calling. Deep down I'm terrified of never finding my way, and so instead, I'll settle into a comfortably routine life of mediocrity. Sadly, it's not far off. 

Just as the sky finally opens up to downpour, a pair of headlights flickers across the back of the store as a car pulls under the awning over the gas pumps. I finish typing my reply to Kali, assuring her I'd be around for her gran's birthday celebration next weekend. The door of the dark sedan opens forcefully, shaking the vehicle when the stranger climbs out of the driver's side. 

His scowl is unmistakable underneath the hood of his jacket as he stalks to the entry. Once inside he pauses, lowering his hood and craning his head at me. The man is average height and build, his light brown hair has a slight wave, but the tone nearly matches the tone of his skin which makes his light green eyes pop. 

"It's nasty out there," the comment normal but the way his eyes roam the store was unsettling. As if on cue, the stranger smirks causing the hair on my neck to stand. While still on edge, I'm grateful when he moves down an aisle putting some distance between us. In my distraction I don't hear the other men get out of the car until the pump notification beeps at me. I hesitantly glance out, spotting two more men near the car, chatting as they fill the tank. 

The driver is now walking to the counter with fistfuls of snacks and drinks, his gait confident and dangerous. He drops the food on the counter and winks before digging into his pocket. With a groan he mutters, "I swear, I just had it." 

I'm shifting on my feet as he pats around his body in search of his wallet. I embarrassingly jump at a loud burst of thunder, and the stranger scoffs at my behavior before releasing the soft sigh, "Ah." 

The movement is quick, but everything becomes a hazy blur the moment I hear the chamber click, my eyes wide as I face the gun. 

"Sorry sweetheart but I'm going need this on the house and why don't you throw in what's in the register." 

I gently nod in understanding although my feet remain rooted. The man peers over his shoulder as another car pulls into the lot, his friends no longer in view. He shuffles forward, pushing the gun toward me and my hands instinctively dart up. My hands trembling with open palms. 

"Hurry up!" he barks, causing me to gasp. 

"Okay, okay," my tone shaky with my pleading reply. My fingers twitching as I tap the buttons of register with increased anxiety with each error beep. 

"Fuck," the guy snarls and I yelp, not realizing his frustration is directed at the alarmingly stoic man now standing inside the door. His glare icy as it bores through my burglar. 

"Vincent, you should know better than to make me chase you across the Midwest." 

Neither spares a glance in my direction when the drawer of the register springs open. Vincent's previously confident demeanor crumbles as he shifts.

"Charlie, look, I'm sorry. I've been try'na get you the money but..."

"Enough," Charlie interrupts Vincent's rambling with a firm voice. The leather of Charlie's jacket squeaks as he takes two large strides, placing him near the center of the room. 

"I'm not in the mood for excuses or forgiveness."

I notice movement in the mirrors above the refrigerated cases; Vincent's men have snuck inside. This is about to get much worse. As the two men continue to converse, I discreetly slide my hand underneath the counter and feel around until my fingers touch cool metal. I keep my eyes trained between the mirror and the arguing men as I lift the gun from the rack. My hands firmly grip the barrel, the butt low as I keep it out of sight but pull it towards me. 

Charlie is now in Vincent's face, staring down his nose at the visibly nervous man, "Now apologize to the young lady for the trauma you're about to cause her as you meet your maker." 

One of Vincent's men jumps up from behind a row of chips with gun drawn and pointed at Charlie. I quickly pump the fire grip of the shot gun before yelling, "Not today asshole!"

Charlie jerks Vincent down, as the shot echoes through the store and bags of chips scatter. Vincent's lackey screams as the bullet pierces his chest, before dropping to the floor. 

My mouth falls with the body, the motionless foot jutting out from behind the aisle. I stumble backwards into the cigarette rack, cartons and packets raining down. 

On all fours, Vincent start scrambling across the floor but lands on his face after Charlie snags his legs from under him. His nose is now bleeding on the tile and Charlie grins with satisfaction as he crawls over the man. 

"Frankie!"

Vincent's second henchman is hovering over his slain partner with hands tugging at his hair, in shock as he repeats the name. I feel numb looking at the gun still clutched in my right hand and a small sob escapes as I drop it with a hop back. The commotion pulls the man from his grief and his gun is now pointing it at me. I'm immobilized by fear, unable to execute any plan to redeem myself. 

As if on cue, Charlie springs upright and gun shots once again reverberate in the store. I clasp my hands to my ears as I yelp, watching the second man fall. A string of curses soon flow from Charlie's lips. Amidst the chaos, Vincent managed to escape and we both hear the tires screeching along the pavement and the car fish tails on the road. 

"Fuck!" Charlie roars, moving to the window only to see the tail lights mocking him from the distance. His fist slams into the metal frame, shaking the glass before he turns back to me. 

I cower, slowly backing further into the counter space as he stalks into the booth, his lip curling in anger. 

"Guess it's just the two of us now," he calmly states although his body is tense. 

"Please..." my voice breaks with my plea. I gasp for air as he wrenches my arm and I lurch into his chest. I can feel his finger nails digging into the flesh of my forearm. I softly sob, pressing against his chest and willing him to release me from the vice like grip. Instead, his free hand materializes at my jaw, forcefully squeezing. 

His eyes are unforgiving as he watches me attempt to emancipate myself. 

"This has been a bad day for me, but especially for you," he emotes sympathy, but I recognize the underlying malice. 

"Cameras," I mumble, my speech still inhibited by his grip on my jaw.

"What about them?" he challenges, I can still feel his fingers in my cheeks even though he's eased them. 

"The owners have cameras and I'm sure we can get the information on the car Vincent took." 

Charlie narrows his gaze as he considers, "What makes you think I need you for that?" 

At this point I figure I have nothing to lose. I'm fairly certain he's going to kill me since I witnessed the entire event. It will be the talk of the town, the crazy massacre at the gas station. There will be rumors for years. 

"Did you see the make or model of the car?" I bravely ask. The flex of his jaw gave me the answer, and he releases me. I cradle my arm, the spot sore from his grip. With hesitation I nudge past him, positioning myself before the camera monitor. A plan beginning to take shape, I just needed to buy time and persuade him. 

“There’s no security in the store except an alarm after we leave, but there are cameras in the parking lot to monitor the pumps,” I say with my finger tapping the side of the monitor. He quietly surveys the set-up and crosses his arms. I feel my stomach bottom out, the seconds feel as though they are dragging on, but I manage to restrain myself from fidgeting. 

“Retrieve the footage,” he orders with cell phone in hand, and I can hear the faint vibrations indicating a call. I don’t breathe until I hear him step off the platform. Unable to leave well enough alone, I twist my head to Charlie. He’s pacing the floor as he speaks on the phone with clipped answers, I can’t help but wonder who’s on the other end of the line. 

The color drains from my face once he detects me spying and his laps cease. 

“Yes, sir. I understand and I won’t disappoint you. In fact, I’m handling it as we speak,” he insists into the phone before hanging up. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Charlie’s voice is tight, “I hope you got the information.” 

I wave the slip of paper including the license plate number, make, and model. He leans over the counter to snatch the slip from my hand, studying the information before slipping it into his pocket. 

My eyes widen as he reaches for the gun tucked in his pants 

“Take me! Take me with you!” I desperately plea, and Charlie’s laughter catches me by surprise. The absence of humor is unmistakable. 

“You want to come with me?” he mocks, and I can feel my face flush. 

“I didn’t erase the footage so the authorities will see your car,” I blurt. His face hardens. I’m too slow to dodge as he reaches back over the counter to grab my shirt and draws me forward. I feebly brace myself on the counter, trying to prevent him from pulling me over, even though I’m sure he could. 

“This is a game you will lose,” his threat sending a quiver down my spine. 

“It’s all pretty fucked considering I saved your life,” my voice rising with my chin, and I can feel the anger flooding my veins. Charlies head tilts and I decide to continue, “And granted you saved me in return, but what for? You could have let them finish me and there’d be no reason to off me yourself.” 

“Okay.” My arms barely support me as I slump forward after he lets go of my shirt. 

“Wait. What?” I question, completely taken aback by his response. 

Sweeping back from the counter, Charlie raises a brow, “Clear the footage.” 

I side step to the monitor, as to keep from turning my back to him, afraid it was some sick hoax. I bite the inside of my cheek as my fingers gingerly reach to the set up and Charlie shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

My head lowers as I begin to tap on the keyboard. What I failed to mention to Charlie was the cameras provide a live feed inside the store but don’t actually record footage. It’s all for show, and being in a small town, the deterrent typically works. I press a few more buttons and manage to close the feed, causing the screen to go blank. 

Charlie is still in place when I finish. I start to grab my purse but decide against it once I remembered the bodies occupying the store floor. Instead, I reach into the open register and grab the cash. Charlie tilts his head to the door and I leave the booth to follow. He holds the door open and the damp cool air greets me. 

My brow lowers when the trunk pops open and before I can question it; a strong hand is at the back of my neck. I try to gain footing but the pavement is slippery from the rain and I only slide. Charlie wedges his thigh between my legs, and with a nudge, I tumble into the open space. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I never said where you’d be riding. Now shut the fuck up,” he slams down the trunk. I’m now surrounded by darkness.


	2. Big Bad Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millie struggles to accept her new reality with the cruel stranger, Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Charlie or anything related to the Jack Reacher franchise or books.
> 
> Feel free to leave me comments here or you can find me on tumblr under the username of FrecklefaceB. I post updates and general Jai Courtney related randomness. I'd love to hear from you.

Numb is the only way to describe how I'm feeling. So many emotions are battling for their claim over me as I process the earlier events. A few hours ago, well I assume hours because I've lost track of time surrounded by darkness, my point being is I craved adventure and I guess I should have been more specific about a stranger sweeping me off my feet. 

Anxiety is what I feel when I think about the ripple effect my selfishness will cause. My parents are going to walk into a crime scene with no trace of their daughter. I killed a man and watched another die. I wasn't in my right mind when I asked Charlie if I could come along. It's the only logical explanation because what sane person would? 

So here I am, disoriented from being shoved in a trunk, exhausted from the lack of sleep, and scared because I don't know what's going on. Desperation and panic consume me as I struggle to concentrate, trying to remember the things my parents taught about these types of situations. Naturally, I barely listened, thinking it was absurd to assume I’d ever end up in trunk of a car. The road is now rough, and I’m being jostled around as I desperately try to grip anything to steady myself. My fingers find a nook and when I pull, a panel falls down(,) hitting me in the head. The light turns on in my brain; it was the panel for the tail light. If I could flip myself around, there was a possibility I could kick it out. 

The car suddenly lurches to a stop and my body presses forward with no restraints to keep me in place. He must have grown tired of my screaming, which I didn't even realize I was doing until he stopped. How long have I been in here? I wondered. My throat is dry, but I soon forget it when I hear footsteps and then the trunk unlatch. I spring into action, pushing the lid and scrambling over the lip and bumper. My legs feel like jelly from being in the confined space and I stumble forward, but my knuckles connect with the soil as I seek to gain balance and footing. Charlie nudges me with his boot and I fall over to my side. He grabs the back of my neck and my hands instinctively claw at his arm as he rolls me to my back, pressing his knee into my chest. I’m unsure if it’s his penetrating gaze or knee taking my breath away. 

"How was the ride?" he questions as digits dig into my skin. I only whimper, earning a scoff. "Well mine sucked since you wouldn't shut up," his knee presses further into my abdomen, restricting my lungs and causing my chest to tighten. 

He leans down with his face only a few inches from mine, his hot breath tickling my face, "Are you going to be quiet?" 

I squeak as I nod, hoping his grip will loosen or his weight would shift. He slightly tilts his head, lips pursed as he contemplates me before speaking, “Good choice." 

My lungs burn as I gasp for air, rolling to my side and curling upon myself with shaky breaths. I barely get a moment to collect myself before his boot is nudging me on my back. 

"Get up." 

Quietly following his orders, I notice my knuckles are scraped and bleeding from hitting the lid of the trunk, hoping it would budge. I had tried the trunk release and the levers to push down the seats(,) but quickly realized both had been cut. Charlie must have done this before. Others have been crammed into that trunk. I swallow back the bile creeping up as I glance over to the car. I've shared space with others. What if dead people have been in there? 

I'm unable to control the wretch of my stomach and with a lurch forward I'm emptying the minimal contents near his feet.

Lifting up a boot to examine it, Charlie is full of disdain before barking at me, “Keep it up and it’s back to the trunk.” 

His features only tighten when I unfold, my eyes traveling down to see the vomit on my pants. Until that moment, I was almost sure I had no more tears left to cry, but the sight made my eyes pull and my lip quivers. He only remains dissatisfied with the event currently unraveling. 

“You’re not riding like that. Pants off if you want to get back in the car,” he snaps. My head darts up to protest but I stop once I get a good look at our surroundings. We are standing in a gravel parking lot encompassed by trees, very tall trees, and I press my mouth shut when I spot the sign designating it as a national forest. 

My fingers hesitate at the button on my jeans, stalling as I search for any sort of option and trying to ignore the nagging in the back of my head. I’m in the middle of nowhere with a stranger. This is bad. 

The items in his pocket jiggle as his leg bounces impatiently before rearing up on the balls of his feet and asking with an eerie smile, “Would you rather stay here?” 

I slowly shake my head, fighting back the tears as I unbutton and then shimmy the jeans over my hips and down my thighs, all the while afraid to look away, but his eyes never leave mine throughout the process which is oddly comforting. 

“Come on,” he orders, pivoting and glancing back. He doesn’t get far before he’s racing back towards me and yanking my rescued cell phone from my discarded pants. “Mine now.” 

He smirks as he taps the screen and then drops my phone and stomps on it with the heel of his boot. “Oopsies,” he states with exaggerated eyes, undoubtedly mocking me. His footsteps retreat as I continue to stare at the smashed pieces of my phone. My veins burn with fire as I think about everything that has happened to me today and it spills from me before I can stop it. 

 

“What is fucking wrong with you?” I scream after him in frustration. His form rigid as he stops then pivots to face me. 

Annoyance is evident as he lifts his hand and points behind him to the car, “Get into the fucking car.” 

Adopting a wide stance, I cross my arms and stick my chin out in defiance, which causes him to charge at me like an enraged bull with nostrils flaring. I instantly regret my decision to act like a child, “Shit!” I dart left, trying to put some distance between us. 

“Wrong move!” Charlie yells after me, now his words and my actions have married, thus furthering my initial realization that defying is a bad choice, but I still don’t stop. My legs are pumping as I run with no plan or destination in mind. The bottom of my bare feet meeting the fallen needles from the trees and hidden rocks, and I’m now in the understory of the forest wishing I had at least put my shoes back on before embarking on this adventure. My heart thumping in my chest muffles the sound of the footsteps blazing after me. I feel the hot searing of my lungs as I gulp for air, stealing a glance behind me, only to discover Charlie was closer than I originally fathomed, causing me to stumble, grabbing for the tree only to have my outreached hand intercepted. I cry out in frustration and fear as he whips me around, grabbing my waist and hoisting me over his shoulder. 

I flail my arms and legs, hitting and kicking him with each step even though the exercise is futile. 

“You are really pissing me off,” he snarls and I smile victoriously.

“Good!” 

I breathlessly jolt when his hand strikes my bottom, the wallop echoing through the trees and causing a burning pain on my cheek and tears to pool but I refuse to let them fall, unwilling to provide him the satisfaction of not only capturing me, but also breaking the small fragment left of my spirit. Instead, I slump forward with my eyes shut and give into the swaying of his gait. Soon I'm lowered, strategically placed between him and the car as he opens the door and then grabs my arm with bruising force, slinging me into the passenger seat before slamming the door closed. The car creaks and rocks from the action. His eyes are glued to me through the windows as he rounds the hood, his hand dragging along the metal in a threatening manner. It was either a dare or a taunt or perhaps both, although none of the options were something I wished to pursue. 

I look away in defeat as he angrily throws himself into the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. I could feel his ire burning holes into the back of my skull, but the sudden lurch of the car causes me to jump as the tires spin, causing dust and gravel to fly into the air. His eyes are still fixated on me, as I nervously look between him and the road we are now barreling down. 

I uncomfortably shift in my seat, the bumpy road aggravating my freshly marred behind, and as I frantically paw for my seat belt, the hot leather pulls at my skin as I pivot to secure the clasp. 

Charlie coolly mirrors by actions, never breaking his gaze. I struggle between my silent protest of will and speaking out against his reckless behavior. A smirk pulls at his lips, as if he can read my mind. 

“Problem?” he smugly mocks. 

I chew my lip, now distraught that he’d kill us both without blinking. 

“Let’s get something straight, Millie,” he spits out my name with malice and the words sound foreign as they pass through his lips for the first time. A chill rolls down my spine knowing I’ve never told him my name. “I’m not here to play games with some little bored country bumpkin. Don’t pull that shit again, because you won’t like the outcome."

"How do you know my name?" I blurt out, ignoring his threat. 

He glances to the road and back with a raised brow, "It's on your shirt." 

My cheeks flush as my chin tucks, and sure enough, Millie was stitched in white thread over my left breast. I sheepishly sink into the furthest recess of the seat, feeling abashed over such a trivial blunder which is amplified by Charlie's condescending chuckle. 

"It's been a long day," I murmur, rubbing my hands down my face and drawing my legs up to the seat. I whine as I wiggle, trying to provide enough space to curl up on the seat into a comfortable position. As my eyes droop, I could almost swear I see the corner of Charlie's mouth lift at my discomfort. 

The unexpected heaviness settling on my lap causes my eyes to flash open, and I'm greeted by a black hooded sweatshirt draped across my body. I squint, turning to Charlie who is intensely studying the road, illuminated by our headlights. 

"You were shivering," he explains as my fingers curl into the soft material of the jacket. 

"Thanks," I rasp, my mouth dry from sleep. Licking my lips, I scan the interior for a water bottle only to come up empty. Tugging the jacket up to my waist, I contemplate if I should press my luck to ask but venture against it. The car's air conditioning was full blast, likely used to keep him awake and I didn't want to provoke him, and chance losing the jacket. 

My stomach has its own opinion however, loudly rumbling in the otherwise silent car. 

"We'll be stopping within the hour," he responds. I press my lips into a line at the reassurance, and double take once I notice the time on the clock reading 5 am. I slept longer than I had realized. 

"Where are we?" 

"Outside Atlanta," his answer is brisk and pointed.

"Oh..." my voice trailing off as I gaze out the window. I'd never been this far south before. Hell, I'd barely ventured out of my part of the state. 

Charlie's voice breaks my train of thought, "Vincent is fond of the underground poker rooms and clubs." 

"Besides chasing down the asshole, what's the true purpose behind this trip?" my curiosity is finally getting the better of me and to my surprise, Charlie offers a genuine smile. It's disturbingly charming. 

"Money?" he flashes another grin, causing my stomach to roll, although this time its not out of hunger or nausea. 

"Right," I sigh, fidgeting with the hem of the jacket as I think of anything else.

"He owes my boss the money and I get a fraction of the proceeds."

My brows knit in concentration, "So you're the muscle then. How exactly does one become a henchman?" 

And with the question Charlie's relaxed and somewhat playful demeanor fades, replaced with apathy and Charlie shrugs with his response, "Survival."

I lean my head to the window, wistfully gazing out at the trees and occasional house. I wonder if the occupants are happy or silently suffering. Did a rash decision contribute to either outcome? The car begins to slow as we enter a small town. I lift off my seat, carefully repositioning myself as Charlie's voice cuts through the morose trance of my otherwise raw existence. 

"We're pulling off for gas and a bite."

I hug my stomach, focusing on the diner as Charlie pulls up to the gas pump and parks. He lumbers out of the seat and slams the car door behind him. I crane my neck as he rounds the car, twisting once he reaches my blind spot at the pump. I know you shouldn't watch a tea kettle boil, but I felt compelled to watch him fill the car as if it would speed up the process. He briefly catches my gaze in the side mirror before pulling out his cell phone and walking over to the nearby grass. With the receiver to his ear, Charlie cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders while listening. He snarls into the phone before pressing a button, sliding it into his pocket as he makes his way back to the pump. The nozzle is jammed into its holder and he closes the latch, his bottom lip jutting out. My heartbeat races as he nears the door and slings it open, if that call prevents me from eating I might cry. No, I'll definitely cry. 

The car never picks up speed and I heavily sigh when we pull before the diner. I push the jacket off and excitedly unclip the belt, but freeze with my hand on the release when Charlie's hand covers my knee. 

"Where do you think you're going?" his brow arches with the question. I can feel my skin burn as he squeezes. 

"To eat?" my response is wobbly. 

"Most places prefer their patrons wear pants," he says while withdrawing his hand and my eyes cast down to my bare legs. 

"Looks like the neighbors left out some laundry," his head tilts to the fenced yard next to the diner. My head following to the full clothesline before settling back on Charlie, pleading with my eyes. 

"Get to it," he says, exiting the car and leaning on the fender. 

I hesitantly, haul myself out of the car. My shirt leaving nothing to the imagination, stopping at my hips, but I tug at the material trying to stretch it. Charlie appears amused as I scuttle past him to the fence, meekly covering my ass with one hand as though he hasn't chased it through the forest. 

I bite my lip, giving up on any modesty as I lift the lever on the gate. My plan is to grab the first article of clothing and dart. Peeking over my shoulder, the parking lot remains empty minus Charlie openly smirking at my distress. 

Shaking it off, I swing the gate open as I beeline for the clothesline. Thankfully, a pair of denim shorts is the first thing within reach. To my surprise the tag reads my size, I squeal with delight as I yank them from the line and pivot to the gate with shorts waving in the air. Charlie is practically falling over with laughter as I hurriedly slam the gate closed and unbutton the denim, nearly stumbling over as I step through the leg openings and shimmy them up. 

His smile quickly fades once they're buttoned and my head tilts with curiosity, trying to spot a reason for the suddenly shift. The shorts fit, even though the length wasn't to my preference. I never understood why people liked their front pockets hanging out from the material, but they would allow me to eat. 

"What?" I question, unable to find a probable cause since I did as ordered. 

"Nothing," his voice clipped. If I weren't so hungry I might press but with my luck, he'd make me watch him eat so I let it slide. I've had enough excitement for one day.


	3. Come Out, Come Out

At first, the waitress was ebullient with our arrival, thrilled to have customers on a seemingly slow morning but she grew suspicious with each visit to our table, eyeing Charlie and myself, and then curtly taking our menus. Upon returning with our drinks, she hesitantly bit at her lip, lingering at the table, smiling at me while giving Charlie the cold shoulder. 

I don’t miss the way his lip twitches upon her arrival. He was aggravated; he'd been so ever since the parking lot, after I'd finally dressed. 

"Your food should be up shortly sweetheart," she mumbles to me with eyes trained on my hands. 

"She fell," Charlie asserts over his mug at the waitress. 

She delivers a glare laced with disgust, solely directed at Charlie, "That's what they all say." 

I quickly excuse myself to the washroom, finally getting an opportunity to look in the mirror. 

My blue uniform shirt was dirty and wrinkled from our earlier adventure in the forest, my hair wild and looking as if I'd been riding in a convertible, my eye makeup smudged in an all-nighter look, and my hands marred. No wonder the waitress was exuding sympathy for me, I was a mess. 

I softly laugh, splashing water upon my face and wiping away the remainder of my mascara. I run my hands under the tepid water, watching the way the liquid dances around the cuts and bruises, channeling through the valleys between my knuckles. 

It's said that water takes the path of least resistance, claiming the most easily available course, and I could relate because up until yesterday, I always took the easy route. I was never one to stray from my comfort zone or push boundaries, despite my fear of mediocrity. I let the challenge of change stall me, firmly planting me in place and consume me. When my ex-boyfriend joined the military, he asked me to move with him after basic training, indicating a future together but in the end I couldn't leave. John left town broken-hearted and I slowly grew complacent with life in a small town. 

That didn't mean I had stopped dreaming of finding my place nor ceased my longing for a disruption. Never in my wildest dreams, could I have imagined it taking the form of me embarking on a cross-country trek with a mafia henchmen after shooting up my parents’ store and leaving behind two bodies. 

My vision becomes blurry with the ramifications, but I remain paralyzed with my hands glued under the faucet. A sob escapes just as hands grip my shoulders, providing a gentle shake and spinning me. Charlie dries my hands, holding my wrists as he discards the towel. My lip quivers, trying to keep myself from completely breaking down but his unexpected tenderness is making it near impossible. 

“No crying,” he mutters in disdain and that does it, I start bawling. He blatantly rolls his eyes with a sigh before trying a new approach. 

“Breath for me Millie, take deep breaths,” he instructs, wrapping his arm around me to soothe my back with small deliberate strokes.

“That’s it. Walk with me.” I nod with his forced encouragement, suddenly tired and resisting the urge to just sit down at every booth we pass. Charlie manages to skillfully guide me out of the restroom, through the diner, and out to the car, his patience and hospitality, contradictory to the ire witnessed earlier. Everything feels foggy as I curl into the seat, he ensures my comfort before leaving me to settle the bill and grab our food to go. 

I jolt awake, nearly slipping off the backseat, but catch myself on the edge. I scan the interior of the car before slouching, realizing I had been dreaming about the events at my parents’ store. 

Charlie's head tilts, staring at me in the rearview mirror; at least I think he's looking. The dark lenses of his aviators make it impossible for me to tell. I wonder where they came from as I shift in the seat, his reflection making me painfully aware of the dryness in my mouth. 

"Your food is in the bag," he states. I lick my lips while lifting the white plastic bag off the floorboard, eager to finally eat something. I'm also relieved to have a distraction but it doesn't last as he lifts up his aviators, barking, “Don't get anything on the seats!" 

I pause mid-chew, squinting as I continue and speaking with a mouthful, "Wasn't planning on it."

He drops the rim of the glasses, cocking his head to the side with a crack of his neck. The sound makes me cringe, dropping the cold French fry back into the Styrofoam container. Running my tongue along my teeth, I coyly check him out in the mirror. Damn, he was intensely handsome. 

"What?" 

I hop at the question, feeling inexplicably skittish, my hand pressing to my chest as my heart races from being on edge. 

I briefly consider deflecting, but opt for the truth instead, "Those glasses are nice."

Charlie chooses to ignore my compliment, "We're almost to Atlanta."   
____________

Charlie flashes a few bills at the bartender, immediately catching his attention and moving the cash out of reach once the man leans in.

"Who do I need to talk to about getting a buy-in?" 

The bartender smirks, tipping his chin up to the bouncer standing near a nondescript door. Charlie looks to me while slipping the cash to the bartender.

"Stay here," he says, his tone flat. I look around, wondering what I was going to do, but my head snaps back when he speaks again. "I'm getting a buy-in for the table. I've got it on good authority that Vincent will be here tonight. He's trying to earn fast cash." 

I slowly nod, not feeling any better about the situation or being here, feeling like a fish out of water. 

Upon our arrival in town, we'd stopped at a small thrift store, Charlie claiming I needed to dress the part and shorts weren't going to cut it. Armed with the money he'd slipped me before entering the store, I scoured the racks until I found a cute black dress and a pair of chunky tan sandals with a wooden heel. I took the tags off in the changing room, and quickly paid for the items. When I had crossed the parking lot, my mouth dropped. Charlie was dressed in a crisp black button-up with the sleeves rolled and white dress pants. I didn't have time to ask where he changed before I was waved back into the car. 

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I had studied my face. As we rounded through the streets, he had tossed a small bag in my lap without a word. I had bitten back remarks when I discovered the contents consisted of makeup. I guess it solved the mystery of where he changed clothes, the drug store across the street. 

Aside from the dramatic makeup currently plastered on my face. I looked different, almost wiser, if that were possible. Tapping my fingers on the bar, I decide to indulge in the situation. There was no guarantee I'd make it out of here alive, not if I took account Vincent and Charlie's last encounter. I'd never been to a club and from what I could tell, the patrons were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

However,the drink is snatched out of my hand before I get my first sip, my mouth wide as I stare at the discarded contents, left on a table that I'm being dragged from by Charlie. 

"Where did you get that?" he interrogates, the strobe lights only seem to accentuate his mysterious aura and cheekbones.

"With leftover dress money," I exasperate, stupidly defending my actions to someone with the personality of a rock. 

"Is that what you need, a drink? You can do that later in the room," Charlie says, moving closer while studying me. I swallow, his proximity was unnerving but I'm still mourning my drink. 

"Do you even know how to have fun?" I boldly question. The corner of Charlie's lip quirks; I'd almost venture to guess that he finds my curiosity entertaining. Sometimes.

"I'm sure our definition of fun differs." 

Before I can answer, his gaze lifts behind me. I crane my neck, trying to scan above the crowd, but Charlie's tugging on my hips followed by looping his arm around my waist and pushing me back behind him. I reach out for him to catch my balance only to come up empty-handed, stumbling into a woman. She casts a dirty look but gunshots ring out. I instinctively cover my ears and duck. The club is sent into an uproar, as patrons cower or run in various directions. Out of the corner of my eye I see Charlie, effortlessly walking through the crowd while tucking his gun back into his pants. 

I force myself off the floor and charge after him, weaving around the scared people running for their lives. Vincent pops up from behind an overturned table in time to see Charlie darting his way. 

"Fuck!" Vincent yells before shoving a woman out of his way. I'm having trouble catching up as my shoes cause me to slip from all the spilt drinks littering the floor, but I see Charlie waving his gun and commanding people to move. 

Vincent rushes to the door, swinging it open with velocity and disappears into the stark darkness of the night, with Charlie following on his heels. I barely squeeze through; leaving the blinding strobe lights behind, I exit in time to see Vincent running to a waiting car and Charlie opens fire, bullets ricocheting off the car. Once again, I’m crouching down with my hands covering my ears as he continues to unload his gun into the retreating vehicle. I slowly stand when the gunfire stops, Charlie’s eyes are full of rage as he charges at me. I yelp at his firm grip on my arm as he drags me to his car and shoves me into the driver’s seat, throwing the keys into my lap. 

I’m vehemently shaking my head, silently pleading with him when climbs into the passenger seat barking, “Drive!” 

I fumble with the keys, “Please, I can’t.” 

Charlie emits a growl of frustration, and the click of the gun causes me to flinch. He’s now pointing the barrel at me with the coldest, most unforgiving look imaginable. 

“Fuck! Okay! Just don’t!” I cry, my hand trembling as I start the car and punch the gas. I lick the corners of my mouth as I steer the car, my hands holding onto the wheel for life. Charlie is practically jolting out of his seat, rocking as if his movements controlled the car. 

He finally turns back to me, roaring, “Faster!” I wince at the spittle spraying my face but I don’t dare move nor look in his direction. I press my foot down on the accelerator as Charlie is riffling under the seats. His wicked laugh makes my skin crawl when he finds another gun. Charlie rolls down the window, partially hanging out as I’m now weaving through other cars and gaining on Vincent’s. When he opens fire, I involuntarily flinch and hit the brakes. 

“Don’t fucking lose him!” he commands. 

I’m unable to stop my riposte, “I’m trying!” 

“Left!” he snarls when the other car makes a quick turn, as if I couldn’t see it happening before me. I jerk the wheel, barely missing the curb as we make the sharp turn. I catch Charlie’s mouth grimace but he resides out the window, aiming at the car. Vincent’s car careens into oncoming traffic, and I hesitate to follow suit but slowly veer only to be stopped by another one of Charlie’s orders. 

“Keep right!” 

Charlie crawls further out of the window, settling on the door and shooting over the roof of our car. Vehicles are honking and lurching out of the way as Vincent’s car plows forward. A large box truck swerves to miss Vincent’s car, hitting the curb of the median and popping over directly at us. My heart races as my body freezes; luckily, Charlie is now inside the cab yanking the wheel right causing us to narrowly miss being hit by the truck. I snap out of it, regaining control of the wheel. Charlie scans the street as we clear the truck. 

“Fuck!” he loudly rumbles, punching the dashboard of the car in anger. Vincent’s getaway car was nowhere to be seen. As Charlie continues his hissy fit, I swallow the realization Vincent was no longer using my car. He’d ditched it and now I was fret with worry, did Charlie notice? He didn’t know the make or model but the color was different. 

“Pull over,” Charlie instructs, clearing his nose and scratching his head. I bite my lip, parking the car on the shoulder. 

His chest is still heaving but he’s stoic, only amplifying my new fear. He slowly turns his gaze towards me, eyes wide but void. 

“You’re a shit driver,” he spews, reaching behind for my door lever. I absently push it open the remainder of the way, exiting the car as he climbs into the driver seat. I pause, unsure if I should round the hood or trunk of the car. He jerks the door closed, pinching the bridge of his nose and irked to find me still by his door. 

Tilting his head and mocking, “Did you have a bad day? Need a hug?” 

I scowl, wringing my hands as I choose to shuffle in front of the car. Perhaps he’ll run me over and it will be a quick death but he doesn’t. I quietly scramble into the seat, closing the door and willing myself invisible as we drive. 

_________

"You sure you don't want any?" I question, tipping the contents of the small bottle into my soda and stirring with the straw. 

"I don't drink." 

I raise my brow, taking a long labored drink through the straw. The tiny bottles now make sense but I shrug it off, grateful he still awarded me the luxury. 

He groans, rubbing the back of his neck and shoulder while kicking off his shoes. I steal glances as I happily sip my rum and coke, undulating with the beat of the song softly emitting from radio. His fingers nimbly loosen two more of the buttons on his black shirt. I turn to hide my embarrassment, the liquor and his chest hair sending blood rushing to my cheeks. 

When we had gotten to the motel earlier and checked in, there were only rooms with double beds left. I had been relieved at the time, not wanting to imagine sharing a bed with Charlie or being forced to a couch, and now, I was beyond appreciative to have my own bed. 

I haven't been touched by a man in months. John was home for a visit, and undoubtedly trying to persuade me by showing off all the things I'd been missing, and all the things he'd learned while away. Needless to say, the next morning his ego was bruised when I still wouldn't drop my life to follow him. 

The rhythm changes with a new song, and I set my empty cup down to twirl away thoughts of John and my liquor-induced desire for Charlie. My arms freely swing with my dance as I pivot in a circle, until shifting my weight and rotating on the other leg. As I get caught up in my actions, my head gets dizzy from the spinning and my movements become sloppy as I pick up speed with the tempo. My leg is pumping, propelling me forward but when I step down, I overcompensate and stumble, falling right into Charlie’s lap. 

I immediately stiffen yet he doesn't move. His hand remains secure on the small of my back, preventing me from spilling to the floor. I canvas his face, the slope of his nose drawing my attention to his lips. They were inexplicably pink and full, my mind wondering what they felt like. Were they soft? They looked plump. Was he a good kisser? How would the stubble feel against my skin as he kissed me? I bite my lip; my eyes flicker up to find him staring back at me before dropping as I release my lip. Was he thinking the same thing? I shift, my knee bumping into his as I contemplate getting up but one of his hands settle on my knee, setting my skin ablaze and I relax, feeling oddly comfortable being there, resting on his thigh. As I slowly lean in, Charlie’s hand travels up my back, eliciting an involuntary shudder. I feel his fingers weaving into my hair as my lips brush against his, only for him to snicker while jerking my head back. 

I’m stunned, wide-eyed, both hands clawing at Charlie’s stronghold on my hair. His hot breath on my face, no longer provocative, instead it was menacing as he maneuvered my head. 

“We need to change your hair,” he thoughtfully declares. I’m unsure if he’s oblivious to my previous intentions or discounting their merits; either way I’m mortified. I can feel my cheeks burning with resentment directed at myself for misreading the situation, and at him for leading me on. 

He uses my hair to guide my head side to side, carefully studying me, “I’ll grab some hair dye tomorrow.” 

I suppress a cry of relief when he releases my hair, leaping off his lap and barreling towards the bathroom. 

“I’m taking a shower,” I call out, desperate to escape. As soon as I secure the door, I lean back, exhaling. My buzz was definitely gone, replaced by sheer embarrassment and confusion.


End file.
